The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Lady Bulwer-Harbridge swept into Harrisons Department Store with all the upper-class confidence of a platinum customer card holder, out to spend some of her husband’s money.

Heads naturally turned towards the older MILF, with her dyed blonde salon hair, gym trim body, and tip-top cosmetic clinic features, including hefty, perky, but definitely not slutty, tits.

Even good friends didn’t know if Lady Bulwer-Harbridge was really English aristocracy, as she claimed, or just a grifting gold digger. But what was beyond doubt was her marriage to one of Brunchester City’s richest tech entrepreneurs.

Harrisons was famous as the oldest, poshest, family-owned department store in the country. Its world-renowned Christmas Grotto, allegedly home to the real Santa Claus, took up nearly the whole of the third floor each winter.

The entrance to Harrisons was adorned with tall columns and intricately carved details like a grand palace. The display windows filled with luxury goods, enticing erby with their opulence. The interior all glimmering chandeliers and plush carpets, displaying the store’s wealth.

Naturally, like all Harrisons’ elite platinum customers, Lady Bulwer-Harbridge warranted the personal care of the in-house stylists, and today she was after some new lingerie.

Lady Bulwer-Harbridge moved through the store with practised ease, ignoring the ground floor perfumes, electronics and food, and the second-floor home goods, kitchen ware and bedding. Being summer, the third floor Christmas spectacular had returned to its usual departments of… er… well… it didn’t matter, because Lady Bulwer-Harbridge was heading for ladies’ wear on the fourth floor.

She stepped onto the fourth floor, her Chanel perfume leaving a trail of expensive scent in her wake. She glanced at dresses, silk blouses and cashmere sweaters, her mind thinking about outfits for social events in her calendar. The charity gala next week, the polo match the following weekend. Each occasion required a different level of elegance and sophistication. But all that was for another day she thought, as she came to the extensive lingerie section.

She scanned about impatiently for one of the in-store stylists, and as if by magic, up popped a tall, muscular, well-groomed Black Man in a Harrisons suit. “Rest assured Madame that I am fully trained to take care of your every need” he reassured her, sensing her reluctance at being served by a man in such as intimate department. “Plus, I am regrettably the only member of staff available in this section today I am afraid” he added with an apologetic smile. “Unless Madame would feel more comfortable coming back tomorrow?”

He stood like a statue of carved ebony, muscles rippling beneath his tailored suit, his gaze smouldering with an hypnotic intensity that drew her eyes to him. With impeccable grooming and a commanding presence, he exuded a quiet confidence and a subtle power that was hard to resist.

Lady Bulwer-Harbridge acquiesced, but it really was outrageous that Harrisons didn’t have a female lingerie stylist available. She would tell them of her complaint on her way out.

Nonetheless, she warmed to the man as they chatted about her style and needs for today, before he scurried off to fetch his recommendations, while she enjoyed a complimentary glass of white wine.

Perhaps that goodwill was premature however, when the man returned with a disgusting black and red peek-a-boo bra, with matching crotchless panties, that frankly Lady Bulwer-Harbridge considered only fit for a whore.

The peek-a-boo bra looked like it was made of cheap, synthetic materials, the straps frayed, and the cups stretched out of shape. The red and black lace was tacky and cheap, the barely-there design leaving little to the imagination. The crotchless panties were even worse, with an oversized, garish bow perched right above the open crotch.

“I know it’s a bold choice” he said quickly, seeing the look of sheer disgust on her face, “but I really think you should at least try them on” he added, in a suddenly strange, echoey voice, which seemed to almost sing-song inside her head.

It was outrageous. How ever did Harrisons employ someone with such bad judgement? She would definitely be making a complaint. There was no chance in hell she would ever buy such lingerie, but for some reason, as if almost on autopilot, she moved to the changing area to at least try them on for him.

Lady Bulwer-Harbridge stepped into the plush changing room, her mind swirling with confusion at her own actions. What had possessed her to agree to try on such scandalous lingerie? Was it the man’s persuasive tone or his unnerving gaze that seemed to pierce through her facade of sophistication?

She stood in front of the mirror in the changing room, looking at her reflection with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. The peek-a-boo bra left little to the imagination, revealing more of her ample cleavage than she would ever dare show. The crotchless panties were equally daring, a bold choice that seemed to challenge her very sense of propriety. But the Black Man’s hypnotic voice echoed in her mind, urging her to embrace this new side of herself, to step out of her comfort zone and explore a different kind of sensuality. So, with a deep breath, Lady Bulwer-Harbridge slipped on the crotchless panties too.

Lady Bulwer-Harbridge ired the slut in the mirror. “You look simply amazing” the stylist said in his strangely firm, commanding voice, as he entered the changing area, coming up behind her. “No real man could ever resist you” he added, a powerful Black hand coming around her to cup the material of the well filled bra from behind, a Black thumb and forefinger tweaking her hard, erect pick nipple sticking out from the peak-a-boo bra. Lady Bulwer-Harbridge moaned as an unexpected electric jolt of pleasure rushed through her body.

It was outrageous. His behaviour totally unacceptable. But her Black Master was right she realised, as he moved round to stand in front of her. She could see clearly, from the large tent in his tros, the irresistible effect she was having on a real man.

Still, she would definitely be making that complaint, just as soon as she had finished on her knees, unzipping his tros and taking care of that Big Black Cock. Its musky smell. The taste. She needed a real man’s Black Cock filling her slutty mouth, forcing its way down her throat. Lady Bulwer-Harbridge sucked greedily.

The Black Man, whose name tag read ‘Desmond’, let out a low groan, his eyes rolling back slightly as Lady Bulwer-Harbridge’s perfectly manicured hands grasped his mighty length. He ran his fingers through her salon-perfect hair, guiding her rhythm as she bobbed up and down, her lips tight around his big veiny Black shaft. “Madame,” he murmured, his rich voice husky with lust. “You seem to be enjoying our personal shopping service.”

The Black God ordered her to bend over the fitting room chair, exposing Lady Bulwer-Harbridge’s wet pussy in the crotchless panties. She gasped as the Big Black Cock ploughed into her cunt. So thick. So deep. So satisfying. Her Black Master, so superior, so much bigger and better than her pathetic little white shrimp dicked husband could ever be.

Lady Bulwer-Harbridge couldn’t help but think about how she really ought to lock up her husband’s useless little clitty in a chastity cage. She felt a shiver of delight at the thought of his tiny, caged cock, denied and useless, while she was an obedient whore for superior Big Black Cock.

The Black Master gripped her hips tightly, his strong fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pounded into her with relentless force. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel every inch of him, filling her completely, stretching her in ways she had never experienced before.

Finally, Lady Bulwer-Harbridge screamed out loud with pleasure as her Black Master filled her womb with delicious hot Black Cum. The Big Black Cock pulled out of her well gapped cunt, a small river of superior sperm leaking out.

It was outrageous. Her Black Master hadn’t even used a condom. And although she knew condoms weren’t made for Big Black Cocks, she really should complain nonetheless.

And the price of the lingerie was outrageous too. Five thousand dollars was ridiculous, even if it was only her pathetic husband’s money going to fund the Black New World Order.

Back on the ground floor, on her way out, Lady Bulwer-Harbridge swung by the Customer Service desk to make her complaint. It was unstaffed, so she rang the little bell for attention. Five minutes later still no member of staff had attended the desk.

It was outrageous that Harrisons didn’t have any staff to take her complaint. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to wait any longer for some little oik to turn up to serve her. She would simply add it to the long list of complaints she would make the next time she was in the Store.

Back home, Lady Bulwer-Harbridge opened a bottom draw in her large walk-in wardrobe, and dropped in the neatly wrapped lingerie set from Harrisons. There were over a dozen identically wrapped packages already in there. But as she closed the draw and walked away, her memory of the lingerie, and her afternoon, faded with each step.

She was sure there was something she wanted to to Harrisons, a complaint, but the details seemed hazy. Not to worry. Lady Bulwer-Harbridge felt certain it would come back to her when she visited to the Department Store next week. After all, she needed to go to the Store to buy a new set of lingerie.